


Iroh's Funeral

by FlyAndDontLookBack



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyAndDontLookBack/pseuds/FlyAndDontLookBack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little soldier boy; Come marching home. Brave soldier boy; Comes marching home. An interpretation of what might have happened in Iroh's funeral. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iroh's Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> (Note: This has been edited from the story in Fanfic)

_Leaves from the vine_

“He will always be in our hearts, whether we like it or not.”

_Falling so slow_

“If it weren’t for him, I don’t think I would have been where I am today.”

_Like fragile, tiny shells_

“He was more than a relative to me. He was my savior and guardian.”

_Drifting in the foam_

“I cannot express how much he meant to me.”

_Little soldier boy_

“Uncle, I’m so sorry.”

_Come marching home_

“For the time when I betrayed you and stabbed you in the back every time I was lost.”

_Brave soldier boy_

“Did I ever tell you this? If not, I'm sorry I couldn't before.”

_Comes marching home_

“Uncle, I love you.”

* * *

One by one, the people gathered into the sacred place started leaving, sad eyes evident on their sorrowful faces. The tree that was once full of life was now barren as the weather grew colder and the wind blew the leaves away.

In front of the tree lay a refined stone with letters carved at the bottom, candles lit on top of the stone, and the smoke surrounding the atmosphere.

Minutes, or maybe hours, passed before the crowd all dispersed; all but one man who stood in front of the tree with mournful eyes.

Behind him stood a group, looking equally as morose. A woman in blue hesitated whether she should comfort him or not, and as she started to walk towards him, a hand landed on her shoulder and she stopped in her steps.

She turned around, identifying the person who held her back, and when she saw him shake his head in disagreement, she had no choice but to drop her head and turn back to the body of people.

The smallest of the group kicked the nearest stone weakly and kept hitting her side. No one stopped her from hurting herself like that. They all knew why she was doing it.

She was trying not to cry.

Some of the pain could never be healed.

Slowly but faltering a few times, the group left the scene, leaving the place to himself. Their footsteps faded away and all that was heard afterwards was the thud of knees hitting the ground. The man, who always looked so powerful and brave, so prideful and filled with glory, seemed so weak now.

He felt lost and broken.

“Uncle. I’m so sorry.” The man whispered as he caressed the stone with his trembling hand. His face, marred for life, had an even more painful expression plastered on his face as tears started to fall slowly onto the dirt.

The candles that were once lit turned off as the wind swept the lingering smoke away. Sensing this, the man reached into his robe and took out two more stick like candles. He substituted them with the new ones and lit them with his fingers, the flame only flickering slightly before settling onto the top and eating out the candle.

“I’ve done so many things in the past that I regret so much but I can never forgive myself for betraying you as I did once when we were in Ba-Sing Se. My past was so complicated and even then, you stood by me even when I tried desperately to leave you behind. It’s amazing how you could put up with me all the time. If it were me, I would have immediately left.” The man laughed emptily before stopping entirely.

The painting stared at him with kind eyes and more tears trailed down the man’s cheeks.

“Uncle, I’m so sorry. For everything. For all the times I did terrible things to you. For the times when I thought you were just an old fat man with an obsession for tea. For the times when I wished that you would just leave me alone. I never actually wanted you to leave me, Uncle. I never wanted that wish to come true. Why did you have to go now?” He cried out and his hands covered his face, in hopes that the painting would not see his lowly self.

“Why did you have to go so early? We could have done so much more. We could have visited the Earth Kingdom and maybe get a massage again, but this time, without your poisoning yourself. We could have gone back to the summer house and you could have made me tea while telling me more stories of when you were the great Dragon of the West. We could have played Pai Sho and maybe, just maybe, I could have won without your having to go easy on me.” His hands curled into fists as he punched the ground in anguish.

“Why didn’t I figure out sooner? Why didn’t I see the signs? If I had more time for you, if I wasn’t so caught up with being the Fire Lord, I could have sensed it. I could have sensed your weakening heart and would have done something. I could have gotten Katara or the best doctors to help you. I could have stayed by your side the whole way. Why didn’t you say anything to me? Why did you keep this a secret?” The sorrow in his voice said so much more than what was necessary.

Why could you not trust me?

But then, he stopped punching the ground and left them dangling by his side. He sighed and looked up to see the tender smile of the old man. He smiled woefully and brushed away his never ending tears.

“If only I could have helped you.” He whispered as he bowed in front of the painting.

With the candles still lit and the smoke neighboring the mourning man, he began to sing. And his voice was carried away by the winds so that all could receive the news that General Iroh, the Dragon of the West, and the all powerful Fire Lord Zuko’s uncle, was with the spirits now.

* * *

_“Leaves from the vine,_

_Falling so slow._

_Like fragile, tiny shells,_

_Drifting in the foam._

_Little soldier boy,_

_Come marching home._

_Brave soldier boy,_

_Comes marching home.”_

* * *

And as the song came to an end, Zuko smiled affectionately at the tender pats that came from Iroh himself, who was singing the song with him. An ethereal glow around him shined, and Zuko wiped his tears away.

_‘My little soldier boy, go marching home.’_

“I will, Uncle. I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked it :)
> 
> Peace,  
> FlyAndDontLookBack


End file.
